But at least I have had all the good of late. What I'd thought would be a tricky, traumatic, disruptive adjustment period for Isabella has been smooth as silk. Easy. Pleasant, even. Cash and I were already ready to welcome her in, but I assumed after what had happened with her mother, she'd have some sort of residual issues to work through. Maybe even some animosity. But she hasn't. She's been a little angel who as excited about my growing belly and our expanding family as we are. Well maybe not exactly that excited, but she's very pleased. I'll just say that. We even left the decision of changing her last name up to her. She wanted to change it to Davenport, which made Cash happier that I would've dreamed. Everything has just been going along perfectly.
Until now.
But what if today they jerk the rug out from under me? Out from under us? What then? I can't bear the thought of not being pregnant, of not being able to give birth to this baby. Even though I have no idea if it's a he or a she, I'm already attached. Very, very attached. Maybe because I've wanted him/her for so long. Or maybe because he/she will be the human representation of what Cash and I share. I don't know they why of it; I only know that I feel on the verge of tears simply thinking about what's to come.
And as much as I'd like to keep it to myself, I know that I can't. That's not fair to Cash. And I probably shouldn't hide it from Isabella either. She's still in a very delicate place right now, even though she acts perfectly normal and healthy, and I don't want her to feel that we are hiding things from her. Trust is a beautiful, wondrous thing that is built over time. To risk destroying what we've managed to erect so far would be a travesty. A senseless one at that. So I'll tell them. I'll tell them both and we'll go to this appointment and face it like the family that we are. And I'll hold it together, because that's what mothers do. And I'm a mother now, whether I give birth to a child of my own or not.
I console myself with those thoughts as I seek out my husband and my new daughter. When I find them, they're playing Scrabble in the living room floor, Isabella on her knees and Cash stretched out on his side across from her.
"C-r-u-n-c-h-t-a-s-t-i-c. Crunchtastic!" she pronounces, flinging her hands up with a flourish once she finished placing her letters.
"Crunchtastic? That's not a word."
"Uh-huh," Isabella defends. "I saw it on a cereal box."
"That doesn't make it a real word," Cash says, grinning. He enjoys teasing her.
"Yes, it does."
"No, it doesn't. I could put on green tights, but that wouldn't make me Peter Pan." Isabella giggles. "What?" he asks, feigning upset. "Don't you think I have the legs for tights?"
"Boys don't wear tights," she informs him, putting her little hands on her hips and tilting her head to the side, as if to say You silly man!
"Tell that to Peter Pan. Tell him 'crunchtastic' isn't a word while you're at it."
"It is a word. They wouldn't teach kids the wrong words."
"Who wouldn't?"
"The cereal companies."
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"Because that would be mean."
"Why would that be mean?"
"Because then their dads would beat them at Scrabble and that's just mean."
Cash laughs at that, a deep rumble that rolls over me in comforting waves. As long as he has that laugh, everything will be fine.
I clear my throat and both faces turn toward me. "Sorry to interrupt what seems to be a fascinating conversation, but we've got a doctor's appointment today."
Isabella's face lights up and she claps excitedly. She loves getting to hear the baby's heartbeat. Cash's expression doesn't change drastically, for Isabella's sake, but I know him. Well. And I see his worry.
"When did this happen?"
"Just got a call."
I swallow hard and focus on keeping my pleasant, relaxed smile in place. It helps to recall the sound of Cash's laugh.
As long as he keeps that, we'll be okay, I think again.
His eyes bore into mine before he turns back to Isabella. "I guess we'd better finish this up, then. You add up your points for 'crunchtastic' and I'll be right back." He gets up and walks over to me. When he puts his hands on my upper arms and bends to look into my face, I feel the tears well in my eyes. "Everything okay?"
I shrug. I don't know if it is or it's not.
He tugs gently, pulling me against his chest and wrapping his strong arms around me. As always, I feel safe and loved when he's holding me. Like nothing in the world can hurt me, hurt us. I just wish that was actually the case.
I lean away before I lose it in front of Isabella. "You two wrap it up. We'll leave just after lunch."